


1946

by aneclipsedhabitue



Category: A Passionate Woman (TV), Spies of Warsaw (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Teninch, end of WWII, new year's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneclipsedhabitue/pseuds/aneclipsedhabitue
Summary: A glimpse into hopeful ambition.





	1946

**Author's Note:**

> Just a really small ficlet for New Year's, enjoy :)

_Paris, 1945_

“Vingt! Dix-neuf! Dix-huit!…” The overlapping voices of the people of France floated upwards to the terrace in which Betty stood.

The apartment behind her was fully dark, as she was alone. Mercier was supposed to be with her but he got an emergency call from the Embassy. He left her reluctantly, pressing his lips to hers with a sense of remorse, and whispered that he’d make it up to her.

She spent the rest of the evening blowing out the candles and clearing the petals she had left on their covers as a surprise. She had a heavy heart but ultimately understood. She made herself a cuppa and stood outside, listening to all the joyous people of the still freshly liberated France.

Their voices, while cheery of course held some anguish. Amongst the whoops and cheers, Betty could hear some sobbing.

The war had broken many people.

But on this day, the people of France and perhaps all over the world came together to celebrate their victory and recount and commemorate their losses—Betty found that beautiful.

It made her think of her Da and how he died at the start of the war. It made her think of her Jewish side, and how her heart went out to those lives lost.

It made her think of Jean-François and how she wished he was here to dry her tears.

Since when had she started to cry?

Betty took a deep breath of the Parisian air, inhaling the scent of flowers, musk and a hint of cigarette smoke and she began to sing her favorite lullaby in Yiddish.

 _“Ven ikh zol hobn fligelekh_  
Ay, volt ikh dokh tsu dir gefloygn.   
Un ven ikh zol hobn keytelekh   
Volt ikh zikh tsu dir getsoygn”

She placed her trembling hands on the beam of the terrace and swayed side to side. Looking down at the streets and seeing people flood the streets with candles and little fireworks. She smiled at the crowd that looked like ants to her, and continued to hum and sing and kept track of the numbers they were counting as the ambition into 1946 approached.

“Dix!” She heard the crowd exclaim and blinked. 10 seconds left.

She thought of Mercier again, and how lively their year had been, moving into his flat had been the bes thing she had ever done. What Mercier had given her was more than a new roof over her head, he had given her freedom.

She was free to be who she was around him. If he heard her singing in Yiddish right now, he could smile at her and ask her to sing louder.

She curled her hands into fists and sang louder, secretly hoping the people of Paris would hear her.

She felt a pair of arms wrap around her and she startled.

“Shh, _mon ange_. It’s me.” His lips were close to her ear and he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

She turned around in his arms, tears once again glistened her eyes. “You’re back!”

He hugged her tight, “I felt so guilty. I couldn’t not spend tonight with you. This year most of all. I’m sorry, Betty.”

She hugged him back, “Don’t be. I’m so glad you’re back. I’m sorry though, I had plans and I….well I cleared it all away.”

He pulled back to look at her, “Oh? What kind of plans?”

She blushed and looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the hairs on his neck, “I put candles in the bedroom and sacrificed some of me flowers’ petals on the duvet.”

He grinned mischievously, “Ah, _mon étoile_. That does sound lovely, but it’s okay. We don’t need any of that.” He bent to kiss her.

“Well, I wanted to make it special.” She whispered against his mouth.

“It already is.”

They stood on the terrace, wrapped in each other’s arms and kissing leisurely. Suddenly hearing the loud roar whoops and cheers of below, it must have happened.

Their foreheads rested against one another.

“Happy new year, Betty. _Mon petit chou._ ”

“Happy new year, Jean-François.” She smiled.

“Can you sing to me more?”

She blushed furiously, “Maybe later.”

He laughed and picked her up in his arms and carried her back into their flat and into their bedroom. He plopped her down onto the mattress and pounced on her, “Perhaps, sooner than you think.” He winked.

The fireworks outside boomed, the people’s voices cheered and the music blared. But all Betty and Mercier could focus on was the utter perfection of spending this time together, just the two of them against the world and blissfully oblivious.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year from me to you <3


End file.
